


Born on an Easter

by Kayasurin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: And clothes for dads, Aster's lost family, Because Jack's too old for bedtime stories, Child Jack, Jack makes Bunny want his dad-pipe weed, No actual warnings, Parental Bunny, Pooka had pipe weed for dads, The other Guardians are worried, just cute, warning: fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aster was a husband and a father before the Fearlings took over the Golden General and destroyed his home. On earth, he's somehow acquired Jack Frost, who makes him feel like a father again.</p><p>Written mostly for the cute images of family cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Hoata had prepared dinner, despite the healer's express orders that she was to stay in bed as much as possible. Their kit was putting an obscene amount of strain on her body; needless to say, both sets of in-laws were using the difficult pregnancy as further weapons in their quarrel over the two youngsters getting married. Aster had thrown the four of them out the last time they'd gotten into it, since their yelling had set Hoata to the floor screaming in pain, and the healer had been called...

Well. They were lucky not to have lost the kit.

"Not a word," Hoata said.

Aster hung his cloak up on the peg by the door, and shrugged. "Wasn't going to say anything, but now that you've opened the gate..."

His lovely, even-tempered mate snarled at him, blue eyes shining as she jabbed a wooden stirring spoon at him. "Don't you even start. I'm not going to break from a little bit of cooking, and who else would do it? You! The house would burn down!"

"Salad," he countered, and risked coming closer. She swatted at him, but he dodged easily enough, and wrapped his arms around her expanding waistline. "So, love, how was your day?"

"Don't even start," Hoata growled, before laughing. Aster purred in response; that laugh was what had gotten him falling in love in the first place. Well, that laugh, and her bright personality, the way she flit about like one of the star-birds... and it didn't help that she was the most beautiful Pooka in the entire country.

"Shove off, the food's done."

"I'll carry the plates," Aster offered, not moving. "You should sit down. Only fair," he added, when she scowled and waggled the spoon in his face. "You cooked. I'll do the rest of the work."

"A buck doing the cleaning," Hoata mused, sitting down in one of their two chairs. "That, I have to see."

He chuckled, and ladled the - ah, they were having stew today - into bowls. He got out two spoons, carefully carved by his inexpert self, and carried everything to the table. "You see that every day, doe," he mock-growled. "And if you weren't such a fragile flower, you'd not be seeing it."

"Just you wait," Hoata mocked, patting her stomach. "Once your son is out, I'll kick your arse and show you what a fragile flower can _really_ do."

Aster grinned, and reached over to catch her hand. "What'd I do to deserve you?" he asked.

His warrior maid - soon to be warrior mother - grinned, and leaned forward, as though imparting some great secret. "You have amazing legs," she whispered, and chuckled at his expression.

In all honesty, Aster supposed it had to have been the physical, at least at first. Hoata was - _Hoata_. The embodiment of a warrior, tall for a doe, with broad shoulders and strong muscles, all lean lines with sudden, almost strange softness here and there, chest and hips and smile. Her coloring was the only place where she didn't fit the classic mould, with bright, silvery fur and blue eyes that shone like a summer's day. He could draw her a thousand times a day, sitting, stretching, sparring with one of her numerous siblings, and never get tired of it.

In contrast, Aster thought he was quite dull beside her. Oh, sure, he had good legs - could've been a messenger, if art hadn't called stronger - but he was a bit short from thin rations growing up, only six-foot-one-including-the-ears. He was clumsy, forever knocking into something or spilling whatever liquid there was about to be spilled. Tripped over his own stupid feet half the time. Got paint into his fur, giving the dull gray the only color he ever had. His eyes were plain green, the same shade hundreds of people shared.

"Stop," Hoata said, and covered his hand with hers. "I can see you thinking down at yourself. And what've I said about people that insult my mate?"

"You'll beat them up," he said, brightening. What did it matter if he was a drab little thing? Hoata loved him. He wasn't quite sure why, but she did, and he'd do anything for her.

"Goes double for you," she said, and tapped him on the nose. "Eat your stew, I slaved over a hot stove for hours."

"Really?"

"No, your mother was by. She seems to think you'll starve to death if she doesn't bring food around."

Ah, he'd thought the seasoning was familiar.

* * *

Hoata screamed, and Aster flinched. His father - and Hoata's father, stars help him - each clamped a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. Thunderbolt, and who had named the poor buck, might have been a warrior, but Hemlock had muscles from labouring on the docks, and so neither of them shifted from his struggles.

"She needs me," he said, as his mate screamed again.

"Birthing a kit is doe's work," Thunderbolt said. He squeezed Aster's shoulder, until surely bones would break if he only twitched his fingers. "You're a buck. You stay out here."

Going by the warrior's expression, Aster wouldn't be a buck for long if anything happened to Hoata during the birthing. Aster's side of the family had never been able to afford the cost of going to a healing center, and the warrior clans tended to frown at healers in general. Hoata was giving birth without painkillers, and with her mother, and Aster's mother, instead of a healer.

Despite having to call a healer out _three times_ over the course of her pregnancy.

His breath hitched, and his heart lodged itself somewhere just behind his tongue. The screaming continued at odd intervals, and finally the two, older bucks dragged him through the field to the hot spring Hoata had demanded be theirs. They used it for bathing, in lieu of digging a proper chamber out, and Aster couldn't help but immediately remember slowly working soap into Hoata's fur, or the way she'd pressed up against him and nuzzled at his neck...

In the distance, still audible, was another scream. He flinched, and tripped. Thunderbolt caught him, and then looked as though he couldn't imagine why he had.

"I have to go," Aster told his father. "Please!"

"No," Hemlock said. "The Captain's right, it's not your place."

"But it's my fault!" Nothing seemed clearer than that simple fact, not now, with his mate's screams ringing in his ears and the field. She would hardly have gotten pregnant on her own, after all. "I have to be there with her, it's my fault!"

He was aware, distantly, of his father and Thunderbolt sharing a look that... well, even as _distracted_ as he was, he knew they were saying volumes about him with that shared glance, no words required.

"My father had me drink Glitterwine until I passed out," Thunderbolt murmured.

"Did he? Mine just had m' brothers sit on me." Hemlock patted Aster's shoulder, without letting go of his arm, and tugged. "Sit down, son. Sit down. I know you feel wretched right now, that lass is in pain, but there's nothing you can do for her. So you're staying here, out of the way. That's the best thing you can do right now."

"But -" There had to be _something_. There had to be anything! That was his mate, alone and in pain -!

"He's right," Thunderbolt grumbled. "This is a doe's battle. A buck around would only wreck things. Bucks take lives, remember. You don't want that during a birth."

Aster cringed. "No," he agreed. No, Thunderbolt was right; he had no place during the birth, except to stay away. Even if that did sound like one of the warrior clan's crazier beliefs, what if it was right? What if just by - by being there, being male, somehow effected things in a way that took his child, his mate, both? If there was even the slightest chance that was possible, his duty to his budding family was to clearly stay away.

The older two began to talk to each other over his head. Aster did his best not to listen; it sounded like they were swapping stories about other births. He didn't want to hear the horror stories - three days in labour, months of bed rest, manic nesting habits - and he especially didn't want to hear it when his father started talking about Aster's birth. His father thought the events had been hilarious. Aster just wanted to dive into the hot spring to keep from listening.

And then the screaming stopped. He hadn't realized how tense he was, before his muscles winched tighter. What - what did that mean? No noise? Had something gone wrong? Something had gone wrong, he had to -

Thunderbolt grabbed an ear and twisted. Aster fell to the ground, squealing in pain.

"Oh no you don't," the captain said. "We're going to walk back nice and slow, give the does a chance to clean up a bit. Hoata will kill you if you walk in before she's ready."

Hemlock pulled Aster up by the arm. "Have you got flowers?"

Aster turned to stare at him. "What flowers?"

His father sighed. "I told you to get flowers."

"No you didn't!" How was he supposed to get flowers now? The field, the field was full of flowers, if only there was enough light to see which was a flower and which was a weed... wait. "I'm planting a tree," he decided, and folded his arms. "When it's light out. I'm planting a tree."

Hemlock sighed. "Do you have a tree?"

"Not yet. It depends on the child, doesn't it?" Aster twitched, and looked towards his house.

"Oh, very - slowly!"

* * *

Hoata looked up and smiled at him. There was a small bundle settled just above her stomach. The blanket was a bright yellow and utterly unfamiliar.

"Come in," she whispered, and then blinked at the mug of water he offered her. "Thank you."

His mother, and hers, had already spoken with him. The birth had gone well; apparently the screaming was something the warrior clan does did, and hadn't indicated troubles or excessive pain. Hoata was to spend the next week relaxing, doing nothing more strenuous than walk to the hot spring for a soak and back. Their kit - their kit! - was healthy, a little small, but nothing to worry about.

"Hold out your arms." Hoata shifted, and began unwrapping the bundle when Aster did as directed. "Hands closer together - perfect. Here."

She put a small, curled up thing in his hands, and for an instant he had no idea what it was. Well, intellectually he knew, but then it made a breath-quiet sound, what might have been a mewl if it were stronger, and the thing squirmed and became a kit.

He was holding his kit.

The - oh, his kit was a little jack, he had a boy - kit squirmed and he quickly pulled it, him, close to his chest, because were they supposed to be this wiggly? His little boy was covered in a soft, colorless fuzz, his bright pink skin showing through as if he were naked. His little ears... they were so small! They were folded down, and his eyes were shut, leaving him blind and deaf, with nothing but scent and touch.

"Chin him," Hoata said. Aster looked over at her, his vision wavering a touch from the tears gathering in his eyes. "Give him your scent, love. And by the stars, hold him closer, he can't keep himself warm yet!"

Aster wasn't sure if the sound he made was a laugh or a sob, but it was happy either way. He carefully raised his little boy up, until he could tuck that little, squirming body under his chin. His kit - his, his precious baby, how could anything this incredible have anything from _him_? - squeaked, and settled down quickly enough now that he was warm.

Hoata put the mug down, and held out one hand. "Have you thought of names?" she asked.

Aster carefully freed one hand, and took hers. "I'm going to plant him a tree," he burbled.

His dearest love gave him an odd look. "Did Father hit you over the head? What does that have to with our son's _name_?"

Aster grinned. "Absolutely nothing, but I'm going to do it anyways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the kink meme. I'm not linking the prompt (yet) because spoilers. If you recognize it, shhhhhh!
> 
> Updated sporadically, unlike everything else I seem to do.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bunny! Hey, Bunny!" Aster braced himself, just in time for a scrawny brat to slam into him from behind. "Here you are!"

Aster huffed, and held still while the miniature shaved ape clambered up onto his back. "What do you want, Frost?"

Jack huffed, his cool breath ruffling the fur on the back of Aster's head. "I'm bored," he said. "It's summer and everyone else is doing stuff I'm not invited to. Entertain me."

"Stuff you're not invited to?" he asked.

Jack grinned. Or grimaced. It all felt the same, considering he had a pointy chin _digging into his spine_. "They think I was born in July."

What...?

"North's really bad at subtle. He's planning a birthday party." Jack shifted, and then he had a cold nose poking him. It was better than the chin. "I quote one movie, one, about being born on the fourth of July. And they run with it."

"Ah," Aster said, and patted Jack's knee. "When were you born?"

"Not sure." He sighed, and his chest pushed into Aster's back. There was a bit more to Jack now than a few months ago; the regular feedings were doing their job, then. That was good. "I mean, sometime late March, early April, but I don't remember exactly, and I can't find a tombstone with my name on it, so..."

"You could have it on Easter," he offered, without thinking. After a moment, he continued. "I mean, it'd have to be low key, because I'll probably conk out an hour or two after my run, but-"

Jack shifted, and dropped down off his back. Then he moved forward, and slung an arm around Aster's shoulders. "I appreciate what it means for you to offer," he said, sounding world-weary and old. "And thanks, Roo. I might take you up on it." He paused, and added, " _Next_ year."

"No reason to spoil the effort they've put in," Aster agreed. He quickly scuffed up Jack's hair, until the inevitable static had his fur standing on end. In that he was luckier than Jack; only his hands were affected, while the boy now looked like he was part dandelion-fluff.

Jack whined and pawed at his hair. "Why would you _do_ that?" He pouted, his hair still standing on end. "It takes forever to get my hair right!"

"Ya mean you roll out of a snow bank and let the wind tousle it up. Have you ever heard of a hairbrush?" Aster slung an arm over Jack's shoulders, and began steering the brat towards his burrow.

Sometimes he kicked himself over his earlier treatment of the boy. Jack was... younger than his appearance suggested. Oh, if the situation was a serious one, he could act older than he looked, like a young man instead of a boy on the cusp of teenager-hood. The rest of the time, more and more as he relaxed around the other Guardians, he acted closer in age to the children they guarded. It'd been a bit of a shock that first time, when Aster had realized Jack longed to be tucked in and read a bedtime story.

Jack looked like a fourteen year old; boys that age were supposed to be looking towards their independence, flexing their metaphorical wings as they got ready to leave the nest. They were supposed to start getting interested in practicing their mating displays, be it sports or clothes, music or 'being a badass', whatever that meant.

Jack was more interested in playing with the eight and nine year old children, building snow forts and snowmen, having snowball fights and sled races. Failing those activities, his favourite games were the ones aimed for the younger children, or where they explored the 'wilds' of backyards and parks. It could have been just that the boy was a Guardian, a good one, but it didn't have that feel about it.

Besides, fourteen year old boys didn't normally ask to be read to, and especially not from series like "The Magic Treehouse" or "The Plant that ate Dirty Socks". At least, emotionally healthy fourteen year old boys didn't, from Aster's observations.

He looked down at Jack, who didn't notice, and tugged the boy a little closer against his side. Jack was hardly an emotionally healthy boy, not after his three centuries mostly alone. Yet, even with that... There was something about the way he reacted to things, the way he approached life, that made Aster wonder...

Well, whatever the reason, if Jack wanted to be treated as if he was half his physical age, Aster would be happy to help. Happier than the others, he suspected; not that they wouldn't want to, but they probably wouldn't know how. None of them had what could be called a _conventional_ upbringing. Aster was the only one of them who'd been a parent. They wouldn't know how to interact with Jack at that level; they barely knew how to handle children when the contact was limited! Protecting children didn't automatically make one good with them...

"Hey, Bunny," Jack said, as they reached the Burrow and headed in. "Can I ask you a question?"

Tempting as it was to point out that Jack _had_ just asked a question, he refrained. The kid would just look sad if he did. "Go on."

"Do you know how I could find my mom and sister?

Aster paused, and looked down at Jack. "How do you mean?" he asked. It'd been three centuries, Jack had to know...

Jack blushed, his cheeks tinting a gentle shade of pink. "Their graves, I guess I mean. Jamie tried to help, but neither of us is very good at the internet yet, and a lot of the ancestry websites need credit card info." He made a rude sound. "Money gouging bastards..."

"They gotta pay their bills, Jackie."

"Well, I dunno why the church can't keep records, still. That's what we used to do," Jack grumbled. He folded his arms. "You just went to the local parish and looked up the people you wanted to know about, and done."

Aster didn't laugh, though he wanted to. "And what if you don't know the names? What if they're someone who doesn't belong to the church because they're another religion? What about how church parishes now are bigger than they were, hm? Besides, I'm sure the church keeps records. They're just not open to all and sundry now."

Jack made another rude sound, and slouched over to the oversized, overstuffed cushion Aster preferred in place of a couch. He flopped down onto it, making a respectable _whomp_ when he hit. Aster smiled, and let him sulk a little. Jack would bounce back in a minute or two.

Almost to the second, two minutes later there was a pale shadow lurking in his kitchen doorway. He could all but feel Jack's gaze, greedy and hungry and just a touch wary, staring at the meal Aster was preparing. Nothing fancy; just a light salad, bread and butter, with apple turnovers for dessert. Still more than Jack could rummage up for himself, the boy had admitted one evening after a shared meal. The quiet clinks of dishes being washed and dried had punctuated Jack's speech.

Jack hadn't seemed to understand why Aster hugged him, after, but he hadn't pulled away either. Reassuring, that.

"Feel up to setting the table?" he asked, and saw Jack twitch from the corner of his eye.

The boy ghosted across the room to the shelves holding the plates and cutlery. "How'd you know I was there?"

"Peripheral vision's better than a human's, kid. Can't quite see behind my little old self, but..." Aster grinned at Jack's muttered response to that - 'little' and 'old' were the politest words - and carried the salad and loaf of bread over to the table. Jack was quick to follow with the plates, forks, and butter.

Aster took care of the pitcher of juice, while Jack got the glasses. After that, the only thing left to do was serve the food and then eat it. Aster took care of the portions; Jack tended to either help himself to only enough to keep an ant alive for a day, or hog everything. With Aster in control, Jack got enough to eat... and so did the Pooka. Sometimes there were even leftovers.

Rarely, though. Jack liked to claim he was a growing boy, and he certainly could eat like it.

They ate quietly. Aster took the time to study Jack, as he did every time the boy was within sight. It would take an artist's eye to tell the difference between Jack's profile before becoming a Guardian, and now. It would take a Pooka's eye to tell the difference between the boy's profile a _week_ ago and now. Fortunately, Aster was both. Jack had improved. The hollows in his cheeks had filled out, though some curse of breeding had guaranteed he'd always have cheekbones one could shave with, a long, narrow jaw, and a pointed chin. Between that and the button nose, big eyes, and shadows cast by heavy eyebrows...

Not for the first time, Aster had to sigh. A full year of good food, and Jack _still_ looked like he was starving. No doubt he used it on the Yeti, too, getting all the sugary treats he could out of them...

At least there had been improvement, and not just in the looks department.

Jack cleared away the dishes without being prompted, while Aster put the juice back in the cold room. Washing up was quick and simple, and with that the duo headed for the sitting room.

"Wanna help?" Jack offered, gesturing towards his... creation. Aster eyed it, and then shook his head.

"Got some knitting to do," he said, and found the proper craft basket after a bit of looking. Behind the chair? Why... never mind. Jack must have needed the floor room for something or other.

Like one of the toys Aster had picked up. There was a nice little collection, now, from the Lego blocks Jack was building... something... out of, to the battered toy cars, and a few, more Pookan games Aster had made over the past year. Jack enjoyed them, playing with single-minded glee.

_Just_ like a child.

Knitting kept the hands busy, but once you'd been at it as long as Aster, the mind was free to wander. Jack's emotional youth was something he liked turning over and over of an evening. He worried, of course, but... it wasn't hurting anything, that he could see. The kids certainly didn't care. North and Tooth didn't seem to notice, though Aster had noticed Jack did his best to 'act his age' around the other two. Sandy... well, who knew. Perhaps he knew from Jack's dreams.

Jack muttered to himself while he built with his Lego, some tall, flimsy-looking structure that listed sideways. It wasn't going to get too high, not with the limited supplies Jack had at hand. Still...

"Careful with that," Aster advised. Jack flapped a hand at him, and continued to build the structure higher.

He didn't come to a conclusion that evening, not that he'd expected to. But he had knit several inches of the section he was working on. Jack had knocked his Lego tower over, cackling, only to collect the scattered pieces and start on something else.

It was getting late, though, at least according to the schedule Aster had set and kept them following. He set the knitting aside, and stood up.

"Alright Jackie. Get yourself ready for bed."

Jack looked up from his new project, and frowned. "Already? But I'm not tired."

Aster raised one eyebrow. "Really? You pulled that last night. An' night before you'd been out late spreading snowflakes. You need to go to sleep now so you can catch up what you lost, remember?"

Jack tilted his head, and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Another twenty minutes?"

"Ten, but if you're not scampering..."

"Sure, Cottontail." Jack smirked, and went back to his Legos. Aster kept an eye on the metaphorical clock, and considered getting his pipe out. It was a steadily rising urge, one he was doing his best to ignore. He had a feeling he'd be able to ignore said urge for another couple of weeks before giving in.

He sighed. Hoata had gotten him that pipe, back before... Pooka bucks, fathers, smoked those pipes. Bunch of fancy advertising reasons aside, the pipe and the fire-flower leaves was a _father_ thing, the clinging scent proclaiming to everyone that the buck was a healthy, virile, and _taken_ individual. He'd set the pipe aside on earth, though he'd grown the fire-flowers. It hadn't felt right, with his mate and child... gone.

Now though, with Jack... it didn't feel proper not to have that scent on his fur anymore. But smoking the pipe meant admitting he was a father again, and if it didn't feel like a betrayal towards his past family, it also felt a bit awkward, like an old coat he was trying on again, to see if it still fit.

Fact was, he knew the coat fit, so to speak. It was just... Hoata, and little Huka...

Well. He wasn't pulling out the old pipe just yet... though the fire-flower leaves were drying in the still-room.

"Alright, Jack. Time's up. Get yourself to bed." Aster stretched out one leg, and poked the boy with his toes.

"Aw..." Jack didn't whine after that. He cleaned up his Legos - the both of them had stepped on the plastic pieces enough times that Jack didn't need reminding - and brushed himself off. "I'll brush my teeth and then, uh..."

"Sure thing. I'll get the book." Aster ruffled the boy's hair as he headed off to the bathroom. It didn't take long to pick up the book they were working their way through, one chapter at a time, but he dawdled until Jack called the okay. The boy might have enjoyed being tucked into bed and read to, but he wasn't quite as fond of being helped into his pyjamas.

Aster wasn't sure why Jack was so fussed at being seen in the nude, but he also wasn't going to poke his nose where it wasn't wanted. And really, the boy's insistence on being clothed at all times was reminding Aster of his own clothing, tucked away in stasis spells to keep it safe.

Maybe he'd pull a few things out... even if it was all of the "married with children" cut and style.

Maybe he'd just better make his own clothes, new. "Widower with children" had also been a style, and was more accurate to his current situation. Well. Something to think about.

"Now then," Aster said, and settled down in bed. Jack curled up beside him, head on the pillow and hand on Aster's thigh. Aster smiled down, and opened the book to their marked spot. "Remember what's happened so far?"

"Yeah," Jack said, and blinked up at the Pooka, his expression content and his eyes sleepy. "Will 'n Halt 're in the woods."

"Just so." Aster cleared his throat, and began to read. " _Will heard someone moving inside the hut, then a wrinkled, bent figure appeared in the doorway. His beard was long and matted and a dirty white color. He was almost completely bald..._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from: The Ruins of Gorlan, book one of The Ranger's Apprentice, chapter 12.
> 
> Working on chapter three, everything's cute, it's going to probably be four or five chapters of cute and one chapter of parental panic. It'll go great. I accept all predictions, guesses, concerns, and comments. Complementary tooth brushes are to the left.


	3. Chapter 3

"- and I just can't get past the fifth gym. Can you take a look?" Jamie held his game-thing out to Jack, looking frustrated.

Aster paused in his explanations to Sophie, and peeked over Jack's shoulder. Since the boy was using him as a backrest, it was easy enough. The game screen showed a little avatar running around, and then Jack opened the menu. The game seemed simple enough. Was a gym code for puzzle in this game?

"Jamie?" Jack asked, sounding confused. He pointed at the screen. "Why do you have three eggs in your party?"

"Eggs?" Aster inquired.

"Eggs!" Sophie cheered. "Chocy eggs!"

Aster turned back to the little girl. "I don't think that's a good name for your bunny, sweetheart."

Jack held up the game screen. "Pokemon lay eggs, or something. Anyways, if you run around with them enough they'll hatch, and bam, new pokemon. Kinda useless until hatching, though."

Jamie snatched at the game; Jack held it out of reach. "They keep giving me eggs, Jack, I can't just toss them out! That'd be wrong!"

Sophie ignored the boys' antics, and held up one hand. "No. Chocy eggs please?"

Ah- _hah_. "You've already had one today," he reminded her. "Now, let's take a look at your bunny. Does he have a name?"

The rabbit in question was a cute little dwarf, patchy black and white, and small enough to fit in Aster's palm. Sophie had just brought him home this morning, as prior to his homecoming he'd been at the vet to get rid of any inconvenient dangly bits. Sophie was only four, she didn't need an explanation for why her rabbit was trying to hump everything.

"Booboo," she decided, and nodded. "Bunny is BooBoo."

"Jamie, did you leave your pokemon at the daycare?"

"They're levelling up."

"They're also having babies. That's why you keep getting eggs. You can't battle with eggs!"

Aster shook his head, and picked up Booboo. "See how I'm holding him, Sophie? That's how you wanna hold a rabbit. You want to help him feel secure in your arms." He gently transferred the rabbit to the little girl's arms, and positioned her arms. "There you go, just like that."

He ignored the boys as they squabbled and played Jamie's game. Sophie was going to be a good rabbit owner, once he helped her out with a few things. It took a bit to convince her chocolate wouldn't be good for Booboo - telling her it wasn't good for him helped - and it was probably a coincidence that Jack started cackling when Aster said so.

"Oy!" Aster twisted, and got Jack in a headlock. Jamie quickly rescued his game, and snapped it closed. "C'mere, you brat."

He pulled Jack onto his lap, and held the squirmy boy immobile with one arm. "It's very important you're careful with how you pet your rabbit, Sophie," he said. "Here, lookit me. See how I'm petting Jack?"

He stroked the boy's hair, making Jack laugh louder. Jamie, once he'd moved around to Aster's other side and saw what the Pooka was doing, laughed as well. Sophie giggled, and nodded.

"I'm going with the hair, not against it." He stopped petting Jack, and watched Sophie carefully stroke Booboo along his back. The little rabbit seemed happy enough with the attention.

"Now, grooming's very important." Aster pointed at the doll-sized soft brush next to Sophie. "Just like brushing your hair, you wanna give Booboo a quick scrub in the morning and night, to keep him looking neat and clean."

"No baths!" Sophie tucked the rabbit under her chin. "Booboo doesn't like baths."

"Nah, not so good for rabbits. Squirmy little humans, though..." Jack's sweater had hiked up, revealing the boy's stomach and the bottom of his ribs. Too tempting a target to pass up, really. Aster tickled Jack, holding tight as he jerked around and squealed. Despite the kicking, his feet never came close to Sophie.

Sophie giggled at Jack's antics. "Jack's stinky!"

"Think he needs a bath?" Jack didn't smell bad, little like fresh earth and pine, but Sophie was at that age when all boys were stinky. "Think we should toss him in one?"

"Don't you dare!"

"He can borrow my shampoo," Jamie offered.

"Traitor!"

Sophie squinted at Jack, and then shook her head. "Nah. Not stinky enough."

"Stay of execution, kid," Aster said, and released the frost sprite. Jack snorted, and went for Jamie's game again; the boy yelped and tried to pry it from Jack's hands.

"You can't just dump them all into a box, Jack!"

"Just for the gym battle!"

He walked Sophie through a bit more of the rabbit basics, much to the little girl's delight. When he told her rabbit teeth grew all the time, she squealed and kicked her feet in delight. Booboo, released from her arms to nibble at the grass, paid it little attention.

Calm little bugger. Perfect for an excitable child.

By the end of the afternoon, Jamie had rescued his game and Jack was busy frosting individual blades of grass, turning them yellow. It seemed to have all of his attention, but whether that would last... Who knew?

Sophie had calmed down. Aster was explaining how very important it was that she not introduce Abby to Booboo just yet, when Booboo flopped over onto his side and nuzzled against Sophie.

"Nap?" she asked.

"Nah. This is how bunnies show they're happy. They let you tickle their tummies."

Jack huffed, and rolled over until his stomach was pressed up against Aster's side. "Why is it so hot out?" he asked.

Aster picked a few blades of grass out of Jack's hair. "Because it's summer, you brat."

Sophie yawned, and picked her rabbit up. "Booboo's tired, Bunny. Bedtime?"

It _was_ getting late in the afternoon. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Sophie nodded. "I'm read him a bedtime story." She scrambled over and pressed a quick kiss to Aster's cheek, and headed for the kitchen door, giggling.

Jamie made a face when Aster turned to look at him. "I'm not kissing you! But yeah, now's a good time to go in." He looked down at his game, and sighed. "The batteries are almost out."

"When I was your age," Jack began. He sat up and grinned at Jamie.

"Shut up, Jack, when you were my age you had pet dinosaurs." Jamie laughed and dodged a snowball. "See you guys later!"

* * *

"It was nice," Jack said, "Playing with Jamie."

"It was." Aster watched Jack lean his staff up in a corner, and then drop bonelessly to the ground next to his legos. Oh, well. Time to surrender to the inevitable. "Be right back, Snowflake."

"'kay..."

He left Jack to his game with the legos, and headed back to his room. The wardrobe wasn't spotless; not dusty, but the wood hadn't been polished to a high gloss, either. The hinges were a little stiff, but they didn't make any noise. As for what was in the wardrobe...

He put the heavy coat to one side, mourning-green with his wife's family's colors of red and black. She'd looked so striking, with her pale fur... The gold, egg-shaped buttons was just his own preference for the elliptical shape coming through, even in the most traditional of clothing. They were supposed to be circles, but he'd shaped them into ovals anyways...

Further in the back were his old clothes, behind the military uniforms in generic blue-and-green. The uniforms showed their age a bit more than the rest of the clothes. A bit more worn at the joints, at the seams. A few cuts and patches, the stitching in a mostly straight line. Looking at the uniforms, he was once more reminded of the sheer irony of his situation. If their kit had been older, or hadn't been born yet, Hoata would've been in the same squadron, probably leading it. Aster would have either been left behind with their kit, teaching Huka, or... well, who knew? Hoata might have still been alive. Or maybe they both would have died and someone else would have ended up the last.

There was no point in dwelling on it. He set the uniforms aside as well, and pulled out his clothes.

His family hadn't had colors, as such, though his mother and sisters had come up with a kind of family embroidery pattern. The unaffiliated clans went with blue and white, some of the commonest and cheapest dye-colors there were. The does in Aster's family had preferred to start with a blue base, and put the family fern patterns on in white. It was, he realized, quite similar to Jack's hooded sweater and the frost patterns on his shoulders and down his back.

He hadn't even realized the similarity, but... Huh. Aster smiled down at the shirt in his hands, not at all happily. "Reckon that's part of it?" he asked, though _who_ he was asking was... Well, it could've been any number of people, he supposed, and none of them were alive anymore. Even the grief-pained idiot he'd been even a handful of years before was gone. He didn't miss that idiot. Loud, vicious, blinded by the past and by prejudice...

No, Aster was pleased to be able to set _that_ part of his history behind him.

The shirt was of better style and fabric than the sweater Jack was so fond of. The material was most similar to Earthen silks, it was so light and smooth. Pookan silk - silk was as good a word as any for it - was even lighter, and softer, like thistledown to the touch. For a species that wore clothes more as a sign of social status, marital status, and gender than because they needed protection from the elements, that sort of thing was more important than a fabric that could keep one warm.

Though... He looked over at the heap of woollen blankets piled on his bed. Australia was a bit nippy compared to his old home, and even after millennia of adjustment, he still found it a bit cold sometimes.

He pulled the shirt on, and then the matching - well, _hakama_ was the word that came to mind. When you switched between upright and on all fours as often as a Pooka did, you needed loose trousers.

He tugged on one leg, the fabric billowing and unfolding, and snorted. Very loose trousers. He'd forgotten.

Aster turned to the mirror, and eyed his reflection. Not too bad. He was trimmer than when the clothing had been fitted to him; the shirt even showed it, the crisp lines softened a bit across his chest and stomach, and just a bit stretched over his shoulders. Not enough to distort the embroidery, but it was clear he'd changed shape from when he'd last worn the shirt. At least the high collar was still fitted properly, stiff with white embroidery. No sleeves; married bucks didn't have them, the better to show off the jewels he wasn't about to pull out of their box.

The dark blue _hakama_ looked a little strange, similar enough to the Japanese kendo outfit that the differences made it even more jarring. The white embroidery didn't help much with that, either, drawing the eye to those differences. Ah, well, the more he looked at himself, the less strange his old clothes looked, so he'd get over it.

Aster sighed, and smoothed down the fabric that draped over his stomach. Right then. Jack would probably laugh, a lot, but that was alright. The boy didn't laugh to hurt people, which was more than could be said for some folks.

Nothing else for it. He headed back out into the sitting room, where Jack was amusing himself. Jack didn't look up immediately, distracted by a fiddly bit of construction. By the time he did, Aster had settled down in his preferred spot, a book at hand, but his attention on the boy.

Jack did look up, eyes scrunched up as he thought of some mischief, and then he stopped. His eyes went wide and his lips parted.

And then he made an unholy screeching sound and lunged at Aster.

The tousling was quick but spirited, and Aster was reasonably certain Jack had neither meant nor noticed the knee he planted in Aster's gut. At least it wasn't further south. He might not have been using those parts, but he still liked them in one piece and attached to his body.

The match ended with Aster sprawled on his back, Jack perched on his chest like a hyperactive kitten. Tiger kitten. He was surprisingly heavy for someone who traveled about on the wind, though he couldn't have weighed more than fifty pounds...

That couldn't be right, could it?

"You're wearing my colors!" Jack crowed, and then frowned. "Why are you wearing clothes? I thought you were a nudist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have much to say about the chapter - it's fluff, dad-feeling-Bun has special clothes but he's not wearing the jewelry... yet... -shrug- The difficult chapter has been finished, so who knows, the next update might be faster. I'm working on other fics, plotting out Wolfy (yes, Hungry Like the Wolf is my next project, sorry to everyone waiting on Assassins - that one won't plot properly). There's also Assassins, which involves bludgeons and big hammers, and Captive Jack, which is going to be a pain and a half.
> 
> Otherwise, I've started a new job and it's much nicer than the old one, and only one door down? Yay!


	4. Chapter 4

The birthday boy was not having the best time.

Aster kept a careful eye on Jack, even when trading herbal recipes with a yeti matron. The young sprite was showing the strain, though he doubted anyone else could tell. Jack's usual enthusiasm had been lowered several notches, so while he smiled and laughed, it wasn't the almost-manic glee he tended to display.

It had started with North's greeting. Aster and Jack had shown up at the same time; only to be expected when they'd departed together from the same place. Aster had been almost shoved to the side in North's enthusiasm. He'd picked Jack up, hands under the boy's armpits, and in anyone else the sound he'd made would've been called a cackle.

"Jack Frost! Happy birthday! How old are you, now, three-twenty? Hm? He looks taller, don't you think, Bunny?"

"Can't really say," Aster had said, as compared to what he'd thought, which had been more along the lines of _actually, I think he's shrinking_. He'd urged North to put Jack down, before Jack's discomfort became more obvious - and then became North-obvious. North-obvious usually involved some form of physical attack.

The man had been raised by wolves, after all. And then after that, bandits. Neither were much known for their manners, something Aster was normally able to keep in mind when dealing with a large, loud, good-natured and well-meaning psychopath with swords. Jack, younger and almost as badly socialized as North, wasn't quite so able. And he liked to kick people in the stomach or groin, whichever was easier to aim at, when uncomfortable.

Jack was rather like a Pooka, that way.

"Hi, North," Jack had said, subtly moving to hide behind Aster. "How're you doing?"

"I am very good," North said, ignoring Jack's movement away. He clapped Jack on the shoulder, and began urging him further into the workshop. Aster followed behind, ready with a supportive smile when Jack checked to make sure he was still there. Poor Frostbite; standing up to an enthusiastic North was a bit like standing up to an entire, happy, Husky-dog pack.

Things hadn't exactly gone downhill after that, but they hadn't gotten much better. They'd gotten to the "party floor" as Aster immediately dubbed it. Half the workshop floor had been decorated with streamers and balloons and banners, and there were plates and platters of everything that could be made with sugar and baked in an oven. There were a host of yeti, a swarm of elves, and Tooth and Sandy.

The group immediately burst into cheering once Jack was in sight, the sudden burst of noise making him flinch and attempt a dodge to the side. North's grip on his shoulders prevented that, and Aster doubted anyone else noticed beyond the initial shock.

Of course, the cohesion of the group melted away once the cheering was done with. The elves immediately ran for the food, and the yeti immediately chased the elves to keep them from eating everything. Sandy and Tooth went for Jack, until they noticed Aster.

And what the Pooka was wearing.

He'd folded his arms across his chest, making the fabric across his shoulders strain just a little bit more. "Wot?"

"Are you wearing clothes?" Tooth had asked. Sandy had echoed the question with his pictograms.

He'd seen, in his peripheral vision, North's look of dawning comprehension and Jack's sudden glee.

Things had gone from there.

The cake had been a win; vanilla ice cream cake with caramel sauce, peanuts, and marshmallows to top it all off. Tooth and North had mugs of hot chocolate, Sandy had eggnog, Aster and Jack had their preferred apple cider. Everyone had been able to eat the cake, even the elves and yeti each getting a little bit, and no one had drank anything that would lead to six arms and a bit of memory loss.

Aster's chocolates had predictable results, and he could even keep his mind, memory, and control while on the stuff. Commercial chocolate was less predictable, and, well...

Not appropriate for a birthday party.

Discussion had revolved around the cake, what Jack had been up to, Aster's clothes, what Tooth had been up to, what North had been up to, Aster's clothes, a funny story Sandy had to share with everyone, Aster's clothes...

The highlight had been when Jack waved his hands, and then asked, "So, Bunny used to wear clothes, but then he got lazy and became a nudist, and now you're freaking out because he's wearing clothes again?"

It had certainly made the others shut up about his dags.

And now... Aster sighed. The others were back, having collected their presents. He'd already given Jack a gift or two. A few books that he knew wouldn't go amiss. Gordon Korman the humour writer was something of Jack's hero at the moment. Even Aster found it hard to read the stories with the appropriate deadpan.

He eyed his fellow Guardians. The yeti matron he was talking to lumbered off, looking pleased with herself. It gave him the opening he needed to get over to Jack's side, and clap the boy on the shoulder.

"Holding up alright?"

Jack sighed, his breath fogging out in front of him. "Everyone keeps hugging me," he complained. "Not so bad when it's elves, but..."

Yeah, but. Aster grimaced on Jack's behalf. It'd taken yonks - alright, a year and a half - for Jack to be comfortable enough with the Pooka for touches to just be a thing they did. And even then, Aster did his best to let Jack be the one to initiate contact. But for what amounted to relative strangers to come up and grab him, that was... harder.

Jack knew - and Aster knew Jack knew, because Jack had told him - that the yeti weren't going to hurt him. During his three centuries trying to break into the Workshop, they'd only ever yelled and shaken him up a little, before tossing him out the nearest window. But it was hard for a body to ignore old instinct and hold still while someone you expected the worst of grabbed you up into a bear hug.

Aster had a similar, though subtly different problem. He'd been a soldier. He had a soldier's instincts. And soldier's instinct had him tossing the odd yeti through the odd wall now and again, when he was surprised.

The yeti did their best not to surprise him. Just because they weren't hurt by going through walls, didn't mean they enjoyed it.

"Just remember," Aster reminded Jack. "They mean well. And who knows? They might get you something you didn't know you wanted, but now can't live without."

Jack looked dubious, but he nodded. Good boy. Aster urged him towards the rest of their little group. Phil the yeti stumped forward with a lumpy package in his hands, teeth bared in what one hoped was a smile. There were a cluster of elves, about five or six, supporting a gift bag. Socks had been stuffed into the top. Aster eyed the bag, and decided that the socks were there as padding. Probably.

Tooth had a gift bag as well, North a small, paper-wrapped box. Sandy had a... bag... of dreamsand. Well, out of all of them, Sandy had the hardest time getting his hands on packing material, so improvising was occasionally necessary.

He squeezed Jack's shoulder, and nudged the boy until he stood front and center.

Phil went first, by virtue of kicking an elf out of the way. He shoved the package at Jack, almost clocking the boy in the face. Jack flinched back, and then took it from the yeti, holding it as if it might explode if he jostled it too much.

Aster sighed, and made a mental note to talk to North. Remedial manners lessons for the yeti.

Jack made a show of tearing the paper - brown butcher's paper, not even scraps of the patterned stuff kept on hand - and lifted up a... thing. Aster leaned over Jack's shoulder to peer at it, then tilted his head to the side.

"Sweater-vest," Jack diagnosed. "Made out of..." He paused, and took a deep breath. "Made out of yeti fur, Phil?"

Phil nodded, garbling cheerfully. Probably cheerfully. He waved his arms like an especially enthusiastic conductor, and moved off to the side.

North surged forward, beating out the elves, again, and held up his gift with one hand.

"There comes a time in every man's life," he said, his grammar better than usual, and his Russian accent much thicker. Aster sighed, and rolled his eyes. He was never going to understand North's speech patterns.

"A time when every man must learn the most important of arts. This will matter, Jack, now until you are thirty."

Jack squinted up at North. "I'm three hundred and -"

"Not only do I give you the tools for your art," North said, ignoring Jack completely. "I will teach you to use it. Bunny is a good man, very smart, but this he cannot do. You must not learn from him."

Jack bristled. Aster face-palmed. No. North _wouldn't_.

"Today," North said, and held his gift out. "I give you the tools to become a _man_."

Aster didn't run from the room. He didn't huddle on the ground, cringing. He wanted to, but he didn't. If he abandoned Jack here, now, the winter sprite would never forgive him. And it would always sleet on Easter Sunday. Not on the hunts; on _him_. The sleet would follow him around place to place, even into his tunnels, and it would _never end_.

So, despite every instinct telling him to bugger out of this train wreck, he stayed.

Jack took the box from North, and pulled the wrapping paper off. And then pulled out...

"A knife?" Jack asked.

"A razor! So you can shave!" North laughed, and took the blade from Jack. Twelve inches of sharp steel, sharp enough to shave with, Aster figured Jack had it right. That was a knife. Strewth.

Jack looked around the room, eyes wide. "Uh, I don't? Shave? That looks very sharp."

North laughed again, and wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders. "You do not shave _now_. You will! And you will be ready!" He brandished the knife under Jack's nose. "I will teach you! I am really the only one who can, Sandy does not grow beards and Tooth is lovely lady, you do not shave feathers."

"And I shapeshift," Aster reminded North, before jostling the man's arm enough he let Jack go. Jack immediately sheltered behind Aster again. "Put that away before you skewer someone."

North looked disgruntled, but did as he was told. But not before winking at Jack. Jack winced, and pressed his face into Aster's back.

Poor kid. Aster sighed. He was old, he knew North since the man had become a spirit, it sometimes felt. He knew how to humour and handle the old fruitcake. Most of the time; admittedly he wasn't as good at it while preparing for Easter, but the rest of the year was usually no trouble.

"Who's next?" he asked, and looked down at the elves. Several looked ready to cry. "The yeti cut in front of you lot - _North_ cut in front of you lot. You're next. Jack?"

The elves looked happier, and all but danced as they lifted their gift bag as high as they could. Jack grinned at them, and knelt to take it. There was a loud jangle of bells, and two elves ran into each other in their excitement. Aster let himself relax. This lot, at least, would amuse Jack. Even if their gift was as bad as the first two, Jack would still have that amusement.

Jack giggled, and tapped his toes at the elves. It sent them wild.

Then he turned his attention to the bag. First he pulled out a handful of socks. And then, with more socks still in the bag, he turned and gave the first handful to Aster. And then the second. They were paired up, toes pinched together, the part that went up the legs paired and rolled down to the heel. Aster frowned at that, but at least it kept them neat.

"Shoes," Jack said, and pulled out... a shoe.

That was the only thing it could be called. Or maybe ankle-boot. There was a leather sole, dyed blue. There was more leather, forming the sides and top of the shoe-boot. There was a hard heel, a top that covered the ankle, a tongue. It was all blue, and the top of the shoe-boot was sparkly.

Jack put the bag down, and pulled out a second shoe-boot. They glittered in his hands, nothing at all like frost in sunlight, and everything like cheap glitter flaking off to cover everything in a five meter radius.

Jack looked from the shoes, to Aster, then back to the shoes, then back up to North, Phil, the shoes, Tooth and Sandy, the shoes, and then down at the elves.

"Thanks, guys. I like them a lot. But, y'know, I'm kinda worried - if I wear them every day, I'll wear them out. Would you be upset if I saved them for special occasions?"

The elves clustered together, several more darting from the other side of the Workshop to join the huddle. There was talking - Aster assumed it was talking, sounded like hyper-sonic mouse squeaks to him - before the elves turned and stared at Jack, all frowning.

Jack held up rather well, it took two minutes before he started shifting his weight from foot to foot. North usually cracked in thirty seconds or less. Once the boy began to shift from side to side, though, the elves all began to cheer, scurrying forward and dancing around Jack's feet.

"That's a yes, they like that idea," Aster said, and vowed to lose those shoe-boot-things in a closet first chance he got. Not even his closet. _Any_ closet.

Jack put the shoes back in the bag, and Aster put the socks back on top. "Do you want these back?" he asked the elves. One shook its head. "Part of the gift?" A nod. Alright then.

Jack brushed at the glitter clinging to his hands, and made a face. Poor kid. Aster patted him on the shoulder, and looked at the last two lunatics left to give presents. Tooth was grinning, Sandy was investigating a drink's tray. Tooth it was.

"Alright, Tooth, what'd you get Jack? Mouthwash?"

Tooth shook a fist at him. "Not for special days, Bunny! Honestly, one time..." She turned to Jack. "It's not my fault. How was I to know the flower would die? I put it in soil and everything!"

"Orchids," Aster began, "Do no grow in soil. They grow in shite. They take said shite, bark shreds and such, and turn it _into_ soil." Well. Broadly speaking. Explaining the fine art of gardening and growing plants to someone who was, frankly, a bird-woman whose feet rarely touched the ground... It was an exercise in frustration, and Aster wasn't interested in banging his head against that wall. "Also, plants usually need watered at _least_ once a year. At least."

Jack chortled, and accepted the gift bag from Tooth. "Hope it's not a plant," he said, and picked his staff up - with his foot, because of course he did - and waggled it a bit. "They don't like me much."

"They love you," Tooth countered, but she looked dubious.

"Plants love you like kids love Sandy. How else are they gonna catch some shut eye if they've got insomnia?" Aster nudged Jack's shoulder. "Gowan then."

Jack nudged back with a sharp and pointy elbow to the ribs, and then tore the tissue paper out and threw it at North. The paper fluttered through the air, and North cackled. Really, the Russian was too big and loud for cackling; it should've been a proper roar of hilarity. Instead, he sounded like a little old grandmother who'd just seen her matchmaking efforts pay off.

Tooth's gift was a bunch of books. Aster peered over Jack, the top of the boy's head just tickling under his chin, and looked through the titles in time with the boy. A book, more like a quick overview on Indian mythology, another, more scientific book on weather systems, and a how-to for learning Punjabi.

"If you wished to learn other languages, why not ask one of us?" North asked, shoving Aster aside so he could look as well. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, and somehow managed to toss the three books into one hand while snatching up his staff with the other. After a long moment that could've turned awkward except for North's obliviousness, Jack laughed and lowered his staff.

"Thought I'd try on my own, first," he admitted.

Aster chuckled, and shook his head. "Maybe when you can sit still for more than five minutes," he pointed out. "I'm not reading you those."

Jack, thankfully, missed Tooth's wince and North's frown. The boy cackled, and swung around his staff as though it were as solid and immobile as a light post. "Aw, Bunny, not even if I ask nicely?"

"Not a chance, you brat."

Aster ignored the others, more blatantly than Jack was. Sandy aside, he and the others had already talked about Jack, bedtimes, bedtime stories, and acceptable boundaries. The talk had escalated into yelling. And they knew that if either of them accused him of forcing Jack to act like a younger child, just so he could get a bit of closure for his own lost son, well... first, he'd throw them through a couple walls, and then second, he'd never speak to them again.

So despite the frowns and wincing, they didn't say anything either.

Sandy floated up, his dreamsand bag waving about his head. Aster smiled at him. Bless the oblivious little tension-breaker. Sandy was the only one who hadn't gotten after the Pooka for how he took care of Jack, and Sandy was probably the only one who wouldn't care. Humans could be much weirder, after all.

"Thanks, Sandy," Jack said, and then stared at the dreamsand bag. "Uh, how do I open it? Without, uh, falling asleep first?"

Sandy frowned at that, and then brightened, complete with an exclamation mark overhead. He gestured for Jack to hold out his hands, which the boy did with bemused compliance. Sandy lowered the bag until it floated just above Jack's hands, and then 'peeled' the bag apart from the top down, unfolding it like a flower's petals.

"I thought you were immune to his sand?" Tooth asked.

Jack shrugged. "I was. Now? Kinda hit and miss."

Aster kept his thoughts to himself. Jack hadn't had anywhere safe to conk out before, and no one to haul him back to a safe spot. But once Jack had decided Aster was trustworthy and the Warren was safe, the kid had started using the Pooka as a pillow. Or a teddy bear. Or some combination of both. Which wouldn't have been too bad, except the brat latched on like an octopus with separation anxiety...

Whatever the reason for Jack's loss of immunity, it didn't much matter. And when Jack did touch Sandy's dreamsand and felt himself get drowsy, he usually had enough time to get into the Warren, so no harm done.

Sandy waggled the half-opened bag, catching their attention. "Sorry, my friend," North said, stepping around the small cluster to pat Sandy on the shoulder. "Did not mean to leave you, what is word, hanging?"

Jack stood up on his toes. "I think I can see... uh, nothing?"

The Dreamweaver wagged one finger in a chiding motion, and then finished peeling the bag away from the presents. Sand swirled around whatever it was for a second, before flowing away to reveal Sandy's gift.

There were two stuffed rabbits, one tan and one white, held up by the thinnest of platforms made out of dreamsand. They were larger than the normal stuffed animal meant for bedtime cuddling; each one would have been fifteen pounds if it were a live animal. Maybe twenty; they looked a bit fat, though the stuffing would squish down at some point.

"Aww," Tooth cooed. "Those are adorable, Sandy, where did you get them?"

Sandy pointed at a group of yeti. They promptly yelled denials and scrambled to cross the workroom floor, the better to hide in the kitchen or outside. Aster snorted at the chaos, and checked on Jack's reaction.

Well. Gleeful cuddling of both rabbits seemed to be a positive reaction.

"You like them?" he asked.

"This is Snowball, and this is Bunnicula," Jack said, holding up first the white rabbit, and then the tan. Aster sighed. He really shouldn't have been surprised at that, and yet...

He knew what books he'd be reading for bedtime stories next. Ah well, they were some good yarns. And they were about rabbits, more or less. Nothing wrong with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, Jack's "Birthday" on the fourth of July. It was surprisingly difficult to write, if only because I needed to show that most of the people Jack deals with currently doesn't _get_ what he needs - which is, a lost childhood. But at the same time, they care, quite a bit, about him. So yes, difficult.


	5. Chapter 5

Aster chortled, and put down the Mahjong tile with a flourish. His opponent, the _nezumi_ of Japan's zodiac, smirked in return. "My friend," Hahen said. "I think you have managed to forget more than I have taught you."

"Probably," Aster replied, and squinted at the tile Hahen slid into place. "But we're not playing by the rules, now are we?"

The rat sighed, and shook his head. He was coming to the final year of his term, and looked... old. By next year, he'd be young and strong again, and they would spar during Aster's visits instead of play a bastardized version of Mahjong. That was how it went, for the creatures of the Zodiac, but it always made Aster worry, all the same. He didn't have too many friends, and the friends who - like him - seemed caught between a human mindset and animal instincts could be counted on one hand, with most of his fingers left over.

Really, it was just Hahen, the old rat's wife... He couldn't call their children "friends" so much as "honorary nephews."

He was tempted, now and again, to bring Jack and throw the brat at the hooligans. But then they'd probably blow something up. He'd go white from the shock, he just knew it.

"You seem troubled." Hahen folded his hands inside his sleeves, and waited.

"Might be. A little. Seem to have, well... Remember Jack?" The English word was a bit odd, after all the Japanese - older Japanese, at that - they'd been passing the time in. "Can't remember if I've talked about him to you or not."

"An idle comment, here and there. The last you said, he was... how did you put it? Not as bad as you'd initially thought?"

Not as bad as... he really had been sparing in his praise, hadn't he? "Jack's a child," Aster groaned, and thumped his forehead against the game table. Pieces scattered out of the ad hoc layout they had spent the last two hours working on. "A bloody... child."

A careful hand rested between his ears, the long fingers sinking into his fur. "So you had said previously," Hahen reminded him. "I take it you mean something different?"

"Not... yes, I mean, I... Oh..." Aster huffed, and shifted until his nose wasn't being mashed flat. "I always figured Jack was childish, bit like North, flinging himself into everything and getting surprised by the consequences, aye? But now I've gotten to know him, he's... he's like your four, only younger."

Hahen snorted. His children were adopted, and in that dreaded stage of _teenager_. The four of them were _minogame_ , minor enough in the spirit world, and quite... taken with American culture. Specifically the culture found in New York, in the 1980's. And surfing. Maybe. Aster wasn't sure; he'd have asked Jack about the slang, but the boy probably would've sprained something from laughing so hard.

If Aster remembered right, the four lunatics had even inspired a bit of human culture, after finding some human writer drunk enough to see them... Now, was that reason to keep Jack away from them, or reason to introduce them?

"He cannot possibly be as feckless as mine," the Rat muttered.

"You'd be surprised." Aster frowned at an innocent water color. A Scottish Loch, not enough details for him to place exactly which one. It must have been one of Caoimhe's works. "Kid flies, remember, and apparently playing in thunderstorms is... _fun_."

Hahen muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, and then shook his head. "So he is younger than you assumed -"

"Physically he's the age I figured. 'Bout fourteen or so. Mentally, emotionally?" Aster turned and scowled out the window. "He... when'd your brats stopped wanting bedtime stories and getting tucked in?"

Hahen stroked his whiskers, thinking about it. "If we use human ages for this," he began.

"Figure we better. Your brats have been around longer than Tooth, but she's much more mature than they are."

"Quite. Then I would say, perhaps, around ten. Yes, I would say that was when they began to resist such things, though they had started to... taper off before that point."

"Jack plays with building blocks and stuffed animals, and if I short the bedtime routine by so much as a minute he'll whine for hours after." Only spending a billion and some years mourning the loss of his wife and son could make said whining bittersweet, instead of annoying. Aster sighed, and scowled as his friend began to laugh. "What?"

"At last!" the old rat wheezed. "At last! I have been waiting for this for a long time, Master Bunnymund, and revenge - ah! It is so sweet!"

Aster told Hahen where he could put his revenge. It was not a friendly place. The old rat laughed harder.

"Is the game over?" Caoimhe asked, sliding the door open and walking into the room. Unlike her husband, she looked entirely human, and around twenty-one. She could have been the template for "red haired, blue eyed Scotswoman", especially when she swapped out the modern clothing for something more historically accurate. She was older than Hahen, who remembered Ur. Caoimhe was a Selkie, probably the first Selkie, and Aster had never gotten a straight answer about how a Scot and a Japanese rat had not only met before the copper age, but fell in love and gotten married.

"My own, Master Bunnymund has been cursed with a son. And..." Hahen reached down and picked up one of the scattered game pieces. "Yes. I believe the game is over."

"Lovely timing. We're having _Kaiseki Ryori_ and _Cranachan_ for dessert. You'll be staying for dinner, won't you, Aster?"

 _Kaiseki Ryori_. Aster kept his ears up and expression mild with extreme effort. The vegetables were always good. The fish was actually quite tasty, even if he wouldn't want to eat it every day. The seaweed, on the other hand, was something he couldn't imagine getting tired of, even if it was the only thing he ate for a century.

The mushrooms, on the other hand...

He did not like mushrooms. They squished and slid between his teeth. They felt spongy and tasted off. If that was all it was, he'd suck it up and deal, especially with _Cranachan_ promised for dessert. But the mushrooms that were fine for a human - or humanoid spirit - to eat... gave him hallucinations. If he was going to eat a mushroom, which he hoped would never happen again, he had to take a tonic beforehand, and another after, to prevent them.

So no, he would not be staying. How to beg off without insulting Caoimhe and being denied _Cranachan_ for the rest of his life?

"Gotta get back to the brat," he decided. "Jack's expecting me for dinner. I'll bring him by in a couple weeks, how's that?"

Caoimhe beamed, and dropped a kiss onto his forehead, just between his eyebrows. "Wonderful idea, plenty of time for me to whip up a good spread. Be sure and to bring your appetites, you and your boy both."

Hahen was laughing at him again, but Aster couldn't really care. He'd escaped the dinner of mushrooms and wasn't about to lose his _Cranachan_ privileges. He'd have to introduce Jack to Hahen's four nightmares, but really, they'd probably enjoy the time together...

And he could make _North_ deal with any explosions that resulted from the inevitable friendship.

* * *

Aster reached the Warren with plenty of time before he had to start dinner. More, if he went with something simple that didn't require much, if any, cooking. He had that loaf of bread, plenty of fresh greens, it'd make a nice, light salad. With some of the leftover birthday cake for desert. Vanilla ice-cream with caramel and butterscotch chips, because Jack didn't like chocolate.

Not for the first time, Aster had to wonder what Americans put into their chocolate that made it taste like tile grout. Then he dismissed it, and set to some overdue weeding.

Anyone else looking at the veg garden wouldn't have thought the weeding overdue, or needed. Aster pulled faint specks of green, barely recognizable as a plant, let alone as a specific kind. Human eyes wouldn't be able to see anything, with the light and shadows playing across the irregularities in the dirt. But he could see the specks, and they were... annoying. All plants had their places, and so far as dandelions and lawn grass went, that place was not among his tomatoes and squash vines.

Aster finished the weeding, and checked the time. It hadn't taken nearly as much time as he'd expected, so he opened the irrigation system. He had to monitor it; one day he'd figure out exactly how and why half the fields flooded and the other half remained bone dry if unwatched. It took half an hour for the garden to get good and damp, and he got soaked to the thigh ensuring his cabbages didn't drown. Then he closed the system off, fixed a couple border stones that'd been knocked askew, and went in to dry off.

It didn't take long. And he had the time. So, since he had the time and salad and a loaf of bread was easy but not much, and since he'd given up Caoimhe's _Cranachan_... No harm in making something a bit nicer than just a salad and a loaf of bread.

Casserole! Salad on the side, but a nice casserole. Jack liked chicken, Aster could load the thing with as much veg as would be in the salad, a good cream sauce, noodles... it'd be healthy, filling, and with how heavy the casserole would be, and the salad, and leftover cake for desert... There might even be leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

Aster started a pot of water boiling for the noodles, and got out an uncooked chicken from the fridge. One day Jack would probably notice it wasn't a human-style refrigerator, but something alien that had been mocked up to look like a human-style refrigerator. And then Aster would never again have peace in the Warren, with how Jack poked and prodded and asked questions and did his 'experiments' that usually involved getting locked in a meat freezer.

Jack wasn't allowed near meat freezers anymore. _That_ , the other Guardians agreed with Aster about.

Half a chicken would be perfect for the casserole. White meat tended to go with the sauce he was planning, so he'd put the thighs and attached bits back in the fridge for later. Maybe sandwiches. Shred the meat, cook it up - a nice fry, so the meat would be good and crispy - and layer tomatoes, lettuce, an herb vinaigrette... that'd be a good lunch.

For now, the casserole.

He cut the chicken breasts into strips, and stored the wings with the dark meat in the fridge. Jack would like them with his sandwich, or maybe he'd wait until he had enough for a full meal... not like the meat would go bad, with Pooka technology taking care of things.

The water was boiling. He added the noodles, lowered the heat, and went back to the chicken. It was child's play to slice the breasts up, strip the meat off the ribs, and set everything to quick-fry over a high heat and in a bit of olive oil. Enough to get the chicken cooked, but not too much, he wanted it to bake in the casserole, not turn into shoe leather.

The chicken finished before the noodles. Aster set the strips and chunks aside in a ceramic dish, and whipped up a quick sauce. At that point, the noodles were ready, so he drained the water, put the noodles in the dish, and mixed everything up, chicken, noodles, and sauce. All that remained was the veg, but...

He checked out the door. There was a breeze in the Warren, not very strong, but it'd seemed to get a bit louder.

Nothing. Well, probably for the best. Jack might have been late for their agreed upon dinner hour, but Aster was late getting the food on the table. It was working out.

There was no need to load down the casserole with peas and carrots and beets and... he didn't even have any beets, he'd run out and the current crop wasn't ready for harvest. So no beets. And no carrots or peas, either. They could go in the salad.

Aster put the casserole into the oven, and glanced out the window. Then he prepared the salad.

Maybe the casserole was a mistake. He finished the salad before the oven had properly warmed up. There was almost an hour left for the casserole to cook. An hour that he could either stare out the window, watching for Jack's arrival in the Warren, or... or find something else to do.

Something else, Aster decided. Not sketching, or drawing, or painting. Normally that'd be a good go-to, but not tonight. Maybe he'd read a book.

He wasn't worried. Not - not worried. Impatient, annoyed, yes. He'd given Jack a Signal, something like a human's beeper but not as annoying. Jack had his duties, Aster had his own, sometimes you were just going to be late or completely miss a scheduled dinner. And Jack was normally good about using his Signal. He'd probably just gotten caught up in a game or bit of weather-work. Nothing to worry about.

Caught up or not, though, it was inconsiderate of Jack not to use his Signal. If he showed up soon, Aster'd have to give him a stern talking to. If he missed dinner completely, though, the boy was going to be grounded.

He picked a book, and stared at the page. After a few minutes, he realized he was re-reading the same sentence over and over... and it wasn't even the first page. He'd opened the book to halfway in, and - why had he picked up a 12th century engineering manual, anyways?

... Obviously, reading was out.

Aster put the book away, and started pacing. He wasn't worried, he told himself, and checked out the window again. He wasn't worried. Jack dealt with storm systems and snowball fights and arbitrated childhood disputes. He dictated winter procedure to other winter spirits - or, as he put it, "yelled louder than the rest of them". He had three centuries of living on his own, three centuries where he hadn't needed someone keeping tabs on him. Only reason why Jack liked playing as a kid younger than he actually was, was all due to how he'd lost his memories in becoming a spirit. If he'd been able to remember his formative years, he never would've wanted to go back to the days of being tucked in and read bedtime stories.

So no, Aster was not worried. As such.

He remained unconcerned and only mildly troubled at Jack's absence for the full forty-five minutes it took for the casserole to cook. And then he only worried that Jack was going to be delayed more, and his food would cool, and the casserole would be fine if reheated but it really was at its best fresh from the oven.

He arranged the plates, but didn't spoon out any of the noodles or salad. He adjusted the glasses, but didn't pour any water or juice. He fiddled with his knife, and put it back in the proper spot. He polished his fork. He stared out the window and saw nothing but the glow-vines beginning to brighten as the light dimmed.

No Jack.

He was worried.

Aster wrapped up the casserole so it'd stay warm, covered the bowl of salad, and then turned and headed for a more technological part of his Warren. It wasn't part of his home; not when the atmospheric controls took up enough space for three football fields. And the bleachers. It was just easier to tuck the rest of his technology in there as well, since in comparison the computer - well, computer was the best word, just not the _right_ word - was the size of a small end table.

He'd track Jack's Signal. Find out where it was, take a tunnel over. If Jack was in trouble - if Jack was in trouble and it was something Aster could help with... Well. One way or the other, he'd know. And Jack would either be helped, or be grounded. Depended on what he found, didn't it?

The atmospheric controls were on the other side of the Warren from his home. Aster stretched his legs, but it wasn't running. Not exactly running. Running meant panic, and he wasn't panicking, he was just concerned.

It wasn't like he'd pop out of his tunnel and find Jack with broken bones or bleeding from stab wounds or beaten to a pulp or _dead_ or -

Aster dropped to all fours and ran.

He didn't notice - _screaming_! Shrill cries that bored through his eardrums into his _skull_.

Aster stopped, his claws dug into the earth, momentum swinging him around until he faced back. And faced an angry tooth fairy, just picking herself up off the ground. He must've knocked into her... "Sorry about that," he said, and offered his hand.

The fairy - Jack's favourite, Baby Tooth - glared up at him. And then accepted the help.

"What're you doing here, Sheila?"

Baby Tooth fluttered her wings, and squeaked out an explanation. Aster had trouble understanding her. Pooka hearing and high voices weren't a good combination, but -

But he definitely heard -

Baby Tooth repeated herself, and he flinched.

 _Jack_ , _lightning_ , and _infirmary_ wasn't a good combination.

Aster was old, experienced and wise. Hearing a friend, someone he considered a second son, was in North's infirmary because something about lightning, he knew how to handle his reaction. He did not panic.

He stuffed Baby Tooth into a pouch on his bandoleer, and ran for the nearest tunnel, moving so fast he was practically blinded by his own speed.

But he didn't panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently the fic is going to be an extra chapter, above and beyond what I had planned, and all because Hahen exists. If you can guess what franchise Hahen's four sons inspired, you get a virtual cookie in your preferred flavour.


	6. Chapter 6

"WHERE IS HE?!"

The door slammed against the wall, and cracked down the middle. Aster barely noticed. Someone grabbed his arm, and he absently flung them aside. There was a crash, the sudden scent of dust, and space in front of him, so he kept moving.

"JACK? JACK!"

He charged forwards, shoving warm bodies aside as he lunged up the stairs. More yelling. None of it the right voice. He ignored it.

Ignored it, until a small hand grabbed tight on one ear and _twisted_. Aster's knees banged against the floor, and he scrabbled at the grip, doing his best to dig in his claws and draw blood.

Hard to draw blood from sand, though. Sandy frowned, and gave him a gentle shake. Well. It would've been gentle, if it hadn't been on his ear. _Pain_ raced up and down his spine, and he immediately stopped trying to tear the Sandman's arm off at the shoulder.

Sandy wagged one finger in Aster's face, and then pointed down the hallway, towards the infirmary. Then he held his finger up in front of his mouth, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Got it," Aster said, through waves of numbing pain. "Quiet."

Sandy nodded, and released Aster's ear. The Pooka didn't even pause long enough to rub the offended body part, just surged back up onto his feet and hurried down the hall. He shoved that door open - carefully, mindful of Sandy behind him and still within ear-grabbing distance - and walked in.

"Where's Jack?" he demanded, hardly noticing as Baby Tooth left his shoulder to join her mother.

North and Tooth stared at him with horror and dismay. "Ah," North stammered, and glanced at - an empty bed? "Er. Bunny! You got here quickly!"

Aster flattened his ears. "Where's. Jack?"

Tooth fluttered her hands, and grimaced. "Uh, funny thing about that," she began.

Aster moved two steps to the side, and out of Sandy's grabbing range, before letting his temper go. "NO JOKES! JUST TELL ME WHERE JACK IS!"

North moved forward, patting at the air. "Now just calm down, Bunny. Calm down."

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! WHAT HAPPENED TO JACK? WHERE IS HE? WHAT HAPPENED?" Really, Aster thought, shrugging off Tooth's restraining hands, apart from volume he sounded completely reasonable. There was no call for North to wince like that. It wasn't like humans had sensitive ears or anything.

Sandy made a dramatic show of cradling his head in his hands, the very picture of exasperated despair. Well it wasn't his kid missing or hurt or strewth, not dead, Jack was an elemental!

"Jack was herding storm," North said, and clapped his hands on Aster's shoulders. Aster allowed it, only because it left North's torso open for a quick jab, and the way the man was standing meant a suddenly raised knee would leave the human curled up and gasping. You know. If Aster needed to incapacitate a possible pursuer or something. If he had to run off to the rescue quickly, and North tried to stop him, it'd be a viable tactic.

"A storm?" Aster spluttered. "Jack herds storms all the time!"

"This one was _lighting_ storm."

"LIGHTNING! JACK WAS STRUCK BY _LIGHTNING_? WHERE IS HE? WHAT HAPPENED? WAS HE BURNED?" Aster grabbed North by the throat, twisted, and slammed his friend up against the nearest wall. He absently noticed that Tooth was knocked to the side by his sudden movement.

Sandy sank down until he was sitting on the floor. His shoulders were shaking. Aster honestly didn't care if Sandy was laughing, crying, or off in la-la land.

"So help me, North," he growled, "if you don't tell me what's happened to Jack in the next five seconds I'm going to -"

"E. Aster Bunnymund!" Tooth snapped, and flicked him in the ear. "North can't tell you anything with his weight resting on his larynx like that. Besides, Jack's right there!" She pointed at the empty bed.

"What, _under_ it?" Aster asked, even as he let North go.

North coughed once, and rubbed his throat. "No, you excitable fool. Something happened when we got Jack here. He began to - _don't you dare_!" North jabbed his finger into Aster's face, forcing the Pooka to lean back. "Do not yell. Do not grab. I will turn you into the soup!"

"Jack began having a seizure, and if you start yelling I'm going to beat you senseless with your own foot," Tooth snapped. "He's fine now, he just... eh..." She looked helplessly at North.

"Go to bed. Look. You will see." North shoved Aster lightly in the shoulder, which the Pooka allowed. For the moment.

He moved to the empty bed, which wasn't as empty as he'd first thought. Someone had put a stuffed rabbit in the bed, tucked in like a small child. A large stuffed animal, the same size as Sophie. Aster scowled, and began to duck, to check under the bed just in case, when the stuffed animal shifted, moaned, and snuffled.

... Not a stuffed animal.

Real, then. Rabbit - except no, not a rabbit. He'd put the physical differences down to being a stuffed animal. Those were always anthropomorphized. He'd put the size down as the same reason. Real rabbits didn't have a bipedal build. They had narrow shoulders and hips, the better to run around on all fours. They didn't have broad shoulders that allowed for a wider range of motion, they didn't have wider hips to better their balance when they stood and walked on their hind legs. They didn't have forward facing eyes and a broader muzzle, binocular vision and _speech_ , respectively.

Pooka, however, did.

There was a Pooka, about the size of a five year old human girl-child, tucked into the bed. White fur against white sheets, smaller than he'd subconsciously been looking for, it was no question how he'd missed seeing... this.

Another snuffle, a shift, and then a whimper. The Pooka - that was a Pooka - was waking - a Pooka _kit_ \- was waking up. The Pooka kit was waking up. Pooka! Kit! Here! Now!

... Where was _Jack_?

He started to turn back to North, because he couldn't beat any answers out of Tooth. Tooth was a warrior queen first, she could take a punch and more importantly she knew just how to grip the base of his ear and twist, and then punch him in the mouth until he had to regrow a few new teeth. That hurt. North, on the other hand, had been a bandit, which were not the best trained of fighters, and then he'd become a wizard - and wizards using magic instead of fighting skill was a cliche because it was _true_ \- and he'd let most of his sword skill lapse over the past few decades.

But then the kit woke up.

Aster froze, as the kit blinked hazy, blue eyes up at him. This was a _Pooka_ \- but Jack was still missing - a Pooka _kit_ \- and his friends were being idiots - and the Pooka kit was staring up at him with hazy blue eyes that seemed _familiar_ , somehow...

The kit snuffled, looked over when North shifted his weight, and then went very wide eyed. First time seeing a human, Aster reasoned, and stepped towards the bed. He'd have to reassure the poor thing, and _then_ he could get Jack's location from North -

The kit screamed.

Aster fell to his knees, clutching his ears. The kit paused for breath, and Aster started cursing and scrambling to grab the kit and clamp its mouth shut before another shrill, brain-melting, skull-splitting noise could go off.

Pooka, like rabbits, had evolved to scream when in danger. Their screams pitched high, the better to startle their predators. Aster's voice had only gotten higher, both speaking and screaming, after he'd adapted to Earth and it's excess of oxygen.

Pooka kits had always screamed louder and higher than adults. That was _clearly_ no different here on Earth.

_Ow_.

The kit was faster than his scrambling. It screamed again, and then launched at Aster. He found himself on his knees beside the bed, a sobbing white puffball clinging to his neck like - like a strangler fig holding on to another tree. Aster tried once to get the kit off him, but not very seriously. It didn't work.

"Alright," he said, and stood up. He glared at North, Tooth, Sandy, and an unfortunate elf that looked halfway unconscious from the screaming. North and Tooth looked rattled. Sandy's eyes were glazed over in shock. "What _happened_?"

"That sound," Tooth mumbled. "What - ow."

"Pooka scream," Aster explained.

North squinted at him. "My ears ring like church... what is word. Gong? I have trouble hearing you, old friend."

Aster rolled his eyes, and stroked the kit's back. "There you go," he murmured. "You're alright. I know North's old and ugly and not what you wanna see waking up, but he's harmless."

"What you call me?" North wobbled forwards, his angle taking him subtly away from the two Pooka. He paused, and squinted at them. "I have arms! I have both arms! I have swords, they are arms. I am not less my arms."

Aster cleared his throat. "Get your ears checked."

The kit whimpered and snuffled at his throat. "You're fine," Aster said again. And then he realized he was using English, not Pookan. The kit wouldn't understand English. Now how did he -

"Daa _aaaa_ aad," the kit wailed. In Jack's voice. "Dad, 'm not scarda North." The kit - Jack? The kit was _Jack_? - snuffled again, and pulled back just far enough to squint up at Aster's face. "Wow. You're bigger. And, uh." Jack's ears twisted with embarrassment. "Cross my heart and hope to die, but I really, really didn't 'member any of it before just now. Um, Dad... Mom's gonna kill us."

Aster opened his mouth, but he had no clue what to say. He had no clue what Jack even meant. Calling him dad? Mentioning mom? Jack was a kit with blue eyes and white fur, and _ooooooh_. Oh. Ah, yes, oh. Well then. Now he... Oh.

Jack's eyes had looked familiar, and not because they were the same shade as when he was human. ( _When he was_ human? _What the hell_?) No, they were familiar, because they were his wife's eyes, and his wife's fur colour, and oh yes, Jack looked like an older version of Huka, his son, which meant...

Which meant the world got very wobbly, apparently. And then Aster fell down. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * *

So far as things went, waking up in one of North's hospital beds, with everyone gathered around his bedside, this wasn't too bad. He wasn't held together with bandages and a prayer, Tooth hadn't beaten him half to death during a knock-down-drag-out fight sparked by cross-cultural misunderstandings. He hadn't eaten North's cooking or touched anything electronic made by the elves. He'd simply passed out.

He could have done without the gathering, though. Tooth was smirking at him. North had a small bottle of vodka and was taking the odd sip. Jack was sitting on his chest, clutching his staff - an action that was a thousand times more awkward now that he was only just over two feet tall, disregarding the ears - and Sandy was petting Aster's forehead.

He wasn't a mess of blood and bruises, but Tooth was smirking, North had his vodka, Jack was cuddling his staff, and Sandy was petting him. Waking up like this wasn't too bad, he'd had worse, but he'd _also had better_.

Aster swatted Sandy away and sat up. Jack went tumbling off his chest and into his lap. North took a sip from his bottle. Tooth backed up, but continued to smirk.

Well. Aster sighed. At least things seemed to have sorted out in his mind while he'd taken his nap. Jack was Huka. Pooka couldn't normally shapeshift until they were adults, but does had been able to force the change on their offspring since time immemorial, one of those 'just in case' things biology wrote into DNA, then never took out. Jack, being too young, couldn't shift back to Pooka. Being hit by lightning had obviously done the biological equivalent of a 'hard reset', his shift had reversed, and when he'd woken up the change in... everything... had triggered the last of his missing memories.

Including the fact that Aster was his father.

"Right," he said, and scooted back until he could lean against the headboard. He scruffed Jack, and held the kit up. "Right. You're grounded."

"Wait, what?" Jack kicked his feet, but dangling from his scruff, he wasn't going anywhere. "No! You can't ground me!"

"Can, son," he said, and smiled. And then his smile grew, as he regarded Tooth and North, who were gaping at him now. "Oh, yes. Y'know how you two figured me for using Jack as a replacement?"

"What?" Jack asked, darkly.

"Well, no replacement, this is the real deal. Jack's me son, proper name of Huka Bunnymund... shite."

"Language," North murmured.

"Bunnymund," Aster explained. "I use the actual word, Pookan language. But Hoata must've translated it. Bunnymund in English is, well... Overland."

Jack stopped scowling, and tilted his head. "What, really?"

"Over-the-land, technically."

"My last name!" Jack beamed, and then snorted. "Twice!"

"First name, too," Aster said. Huka had any number of meanings in Pookan, being the main word for anything like snow, hail, sleet... If it fell from the sky and was white, it'd be called 'huka'. It was used for sugar, the sickles used to cut the sugar cane, and it had once been slang for a male Pooka with white fur.

Jack - and Jack had been clear that he'd never been called "Jackson" - meant 'man'.

Turning Huka into Jack must have been more of a stretch than Bunnymund into Overland, but... he could see it now, the twisting paths of logic and linguistics his diabolically clever mate must have taken. And Jack had mentioned Hoata, said she was going to kill them. Of course she was, beaut of a warrior she was! Aster licked his lips, and shifted to cuddle Jack against his chest.

"So, where's your mum?" he asked, and smiled faintly at the thought of seeing Hoata again. And then frowned. "Wait, how long have... You're three centuries, how'd I not see any Pooka before this?"

Jack snorted, and shifted so his staff was no longer pressing into Aster's shoulder. "How should I know? I barely remember last time I was a fluffy rabbit." He paused, and squinted at the ceiling. "I think I'm older, though. Mom said difference between me and Lilian is equal to about three years, and Lilian got born -"

"Was born," Aster corrected.

"Yeah, was born, just after we moved to Burgess." Jack looked up at Aster, hunching over in his distress. "Don't ask about before, okay? I don't wanna think about it. There was... screaming." He snuffled, and then pressed his face into the soft fur covering Aster's stomach.

Aster gathered his kit close, and crooned wordlessly. "It's alright, Jackie, you're safe now."

Tooth sighed, and moved closer. "Bunny, I... About before," she began.

Aster shook his head. An apology was nice, but... "You figured I was being short-sighted and dumb," he pointed out. "Even I didn't figure Jack was Pookan equivalent to an eight year old, just shapeshifted to look human and older."

Sandy waved his arms, catching their attention, and then asked how they _hadn't_ known.

"You knew?" North asked. "Why didn't you _say_ something?"

Sandy just shrugged, looking confused.

"Dreams?" Aster asked. The Dreamweaver nodded, and then shrugged again.

"I'm eight?" Jack asked, straightening up. "Does that include my three centuries, or...?"

Aster tilted his head to the side, and shifted until he was sitting a little more comfortably. "Simplest just to say fifty earth years is equivalent to a Pookan year of development. Not quite that nice and even, and your mental development will be about the same as a human's... You'll just get more, younger, than a human would, and be better able to deal with it."

"Clear as mud," Jack declared, but he seemed happy enough. He settled down into a fluffy ball on Aster's lap, relaxing in the practically boneless way of kits and cats everywhere. "An' all I remember from before... before becoming a spirit, was mom telling me to act like the other boys and a little bit of fuzzy. We always looked human."

Aster hummed, and began tracing his fingers over Jack's ears. The kit promptly went slit-eyed with pleasure, and began to purr. Human, huh? All the time? And of course, for the past... well, had to be at least a thousand years, he'd only come out around Easter. And he'd always been busy. Sure, he'd popped his head out in remote places, to look around and see if there were any interesting plants to study, but he'd deliberately made those excursions at times when he wouldn't see humans.

So of course he'd missed them. He didn't know if he'd recognize Hoata in human shape, but... he hadn't even had a chance to see them, or not.

She was definitely going to make him pay for that. The bruises would be worth it, just to hold her in his arms...

Wait. "You have a _sister_ ," he said, staring wide-eyed at Jack.

Jack stopped purring, and nudged Aster's hand, obviously wanting the petting to resume. "Yeah? I've mentioned her before."

"Adopted?"

Jack stopped nudging his hand, and glared. "No. Mom said our dad was dead and... hey, that's you! Mom's been telling everyone you kicked it before she could mention Lilian was cooking in her belly."

Aster focused on breathing deeply, which worked until two tiny fists took tight grip on his chest fur and yanked. "Are you going to pass out again?" Jack asked, just before Tooth draped a damp, cool cloth over his forehead and North bellowed for a paper bag.

"No, I am not," he snapped, and yanked the cool cloth off. "Thank you, though."

Tooth took the cloth back, and grinned. "You got all glassy eyed and panted like you'd just outrun a relay of greyhounds."

He snorted. "I have a _daughter_."

"How come mom's been telling everyone you're dead?"

Aster sighed, and was very tempted to roll his eyes. "Probably because she thinks I am?"

Jack sat back - managing to cut the circulation to Aster's leg as he did so - and thought about that for a minute. "She's going to kill us really, really dead... then bring us back and do it again," he decided.

Aster swallowed a purr at the thought. He doubted North would understand... and Tooth would understand far too well.

"Just have to find her first. Them," he corrected. "Just have to find them first."

"No," Jack said, and stood up. He picked up his staff, scowled at the way he had to hold it, and then looked at North. "First, I wanna hear about this replacement son theory. Then I wanna smack an idiot. _Then_ we can look for mom. North?"

Tooth settled down beside Aster. "Why don't you boys ever try beating me up in retribution?"

Aster snorted as Jack began to chase North around the infirmary. It was adorable. Even North seemed to think so, because he was laughing while he ran.

"Because you're mean," he finally said. "You fight dirty, you go for the groin, and I figure you're Jack's favourite aunt. 'Course we're not going to have a blue with you."

Tooth sighed, and shook her head. "Well, if you boys are just going to leave delicate body parts dangling... I suppose getting hit over the head with a stick would damage my dignity."

"A little," Aster agreed. He smiled, just as Jack scored a direct hit, North stumbled, and Jack ended up yanking on the Russian's beard. "You're dignified enough it'd be hardly a dent, but still."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's not that this chapter was kicking my butt (although ranting and raving panicked father isn't my usual head space, not being fatherly or even very parental at this stage of my life) but that work was kicking my butt. My new job has a number of shifts, one of which I like very much - being 4pm to 1am means I can awake normally without an alarm clock, write before work, and in general go in feeling relaxed and happy and not as if I'd been working the evening before. This week, I started at 9am. Apparently that makes me a zombie. From now on I should be on my preferred shift, so here's hoping no more repeat of Zombie Kaya. Also, there's probably one more chapter left, simply because Hoata needs to kill her husband and son, then bring them back for cuddles, then kill Aster _again_ for being so stupid as to miss them for three and a half centuries.


	7. Chapter 7

Aster adjusted his shirt again, and looked over at his dear, _un_ wanted friends. "You don't have to stay."

North snickered at him. Snickered! At him! "We want to see grand romance," he said. "And how grand romance will work with two spirits, eh?"

Tooth smacked North upside the head. "We want to make sure North's magic worked. Not _spy_ , you old grandmother!"

Aster rolled his eyes, and checked on Jack and Sandy, hovering over the neighbourhood. Jack's powers were still in force, including the flying. Perhaps especially the flying; going from five foot nothing to two foot nothing had apparently frustrated the kit, so he spent most of his time hovering above everyone's heads. The only good side to the flying thing was how quickly it exhausted him. Flying outside was easier, but flying inside was all under his own power, and nothing conked him out faster.

Watching North deal with a cranky Pooka kit snoozing on his head was funny. Having the same cranky Pooka kit on his own head was less so, but... his son. His little Huka Bunnymund. Aster had decided that the curling up, even the yanking on his ears, was endearing instead of annoying.

"Like I keep telling you," he said. "Pooka, like the Fae, have always stood halfway between what's considered the spirit world and the mortal world. Pooka, like the Fae and unlike humans, can see 'spirits' as easily as they see 'mortals'. The only reason I'm not visible to humans anymore is because I don't stand across the line anymore, just on the spirit side. There aren't any smaller words, I can't dumb it down any further. Can you at least _pretend_ to understand?"

North scowled at him, but any response was cut off by Tooth slapping at his shoulder in excitement. "They see her!"

Aster immediately looked up at the two floating overhead, and grinned. Sandy was - mostly - impassive, his excitement communicated by nothing more than a slight blurring of his features, while Jack...

He chuckled. His kit. His Jack, little Huka, was doing loop-de-loops in place.

"Brat," he muttered, and peered towards the street corner, as though he could see through the houses and fencing in the way. Hoata lived in this house, North's magic said so. And the kiddies, such as Lilian, were dropped off by the school bus at the street corner, where they were picked up by mums and dads. Aster had already peeked at the adult humans thronging the corner in question, but none of them looked like Hoata. Maybe. It was... really hard to say.

Thus, waiting in the backyard for the sprogs to be picked up, and for Hoata to bring Lilian home. He had no doubt that Hoata not only continued her routine of checking doors and sight lines through windows, but had only grown more watchful and wary after Pitch's attack.

An attack that had only been three centuries ago for him, but had happened just before Earth's formation for him.

Damn it, no, he wasn't going to go down that line of thinking. Hoata wouldn't care, except to be pissed he'd run off and left her behind. She'd have been pissed if he'd done a quick detour to pick her and Huka up, but at least they'd have been together. On the other hand, this way he'd managed to avoid several billion years of 'I told you so's.

He kept an eye on Jack, who was all but dancing - and then froze, staff dangling from his claw-tips and mouth open. Aster's heart surged from a gentle pace to something a bit more rapid, pulsing in the big veins of his arms and legs. Hoata. Jack _must_ have seen Hoata.

He followed his mate's - mate and daughter - progress down the street, watching the way Jack turned and angled to keep his mum and sister in the center of his sight. Sandy was following Hoata and Lilian's progress as well, but not as intently. Well, he had less at stake, Aster supposed. If North's magic had led them wrong...

Jack and Sandy both moved closer to the ground, presumably when Hoata and Lilian went into the house. Sandy shifted until he was between North and Tooth, possibly to stop any arguments or possibly just to get a good view, and Jack dropped down onto Aster's shoulder.

"Lilian looks like I remember," Jack offered. "Uh. Mom, uh, doesn't."

Aster nodded, and reached up with one hand to stroke Jack's kitten-soft fur. "Kinda figured. Gotta remember, humans have ways of tracking each other through computers now."

"Facial recognition software," Jack agreed. Aster blinked; humans had facial recognition software already? Bit early for them, wasn't it?

With Pooka, it had been - shape! In the window! A tall, broad-shouldered shape, there and gone in the flicker of an instant. Aster stared, heart going so fast and loud he couldn't hear anything else. They were right, they had to be right, this had to be it!

Another flicker, this time beside the back door, and -

That was...

... not quite what he was expecting, actually.

The human, the _male_ human, had skin the color of heavy oak wood, somewhere between rusty brown and a flower that had only bloomed on the Pookan seashore. He was tall, to the point that he had to duck slightly to get through the door, and his broad shoulders rivalled North's breadth. His hair, clipped short, was a salt-and-pepper hue, with enough salt that Aster couldn't tell if the pepper was black or brown. His eyes, though, were a bright and brilliant ice blue.

For a second, he wondered if - but no, Thunderbolt had been beside him in that last bit of fighting, keeping Aster "alive for that daughter of mine", taking a blow that Pitch had aimed at Aster's back...

And then he realized, fully and completely, just how clever his brilliant doe was.

"Hoata," he breathed, and watched his mate smile. Jack's smile, on a face that - color aside - was a near perfect match for Jack's human shape.

Behind him, North was making confused noises. Tooth was hushing him, apparently just as confused but willing to wait for an explanation. Jack trembled on his shoulder, claws digging in through Aster's fur and threatening to draw blood.

Hoata moved forward, peeling the uniform jacket off, then the shirt underneath. Some kind of police outfit, discarded as easily as last year's leaves. Hoata's human form was an aesthetically pleasing one, strongly muscled, but not in a way that would compromise speed or flexibility. Hoata had clearly gone for the full monty, he saw, as his mate's pants and underwear fell to the grass almost as quickly as the shirt and jacket.

Absently, he wondered if Hoata had changed pronouns in the past three centuries, and then he was being gathered into his mate's arms, human lips slanting over his, the form he clutched tight to his chest shifting, elongating into a properly Pookan shape even as they tasted each other again.

Even Jack, making disgusted, _my parents are kissing this is so **gross**_ sounds couldn't bother him.

Hoata shifted, and shoved Jack off Aster's shoulder. Gently, for one of the warrior clans. Aster still wanted to pull back, chide her - yes, definitely a her now, whatever sex her human shape held - for being a bit rough on their boy, but... kissing. Soft fur under his hands, strong hands gripping the back of his head and top of his thigh...

And if he didn't pull back, his human-minded friends would be getting an education in Pooka sex they likely didn't want.

"Love," he murmured, the Pookan at once clumsy on his tongue and light, a joy to speak aloud to another Pooka, to anyone. "Our brat might need teaching in what's normal, but my friends will scream and flail and ruin the moment."

Hoata chuckled, and shifted to nuzzle the base of one ear. "That so? Might be amusing."

How had he not recognized her sense of mischief in Jack? How? Must've been blind... stupid, old, and blind.

"Maybe later," he allowed. "Right now, I wanta get to know you again, without interruptions."

She chuckled again, and leaned back. "Oh, alright. If you insist." Hoata tweaked his tail, and then peered over his shoulder at the other Guardians, and then down at Jack.

At that, she froze, eyes bulging and fur puffing out in shock. "Huka?" she breathed. "But... you... lake. You fell in the lake."

Jack folded his arms around the base of his staff. "I got better."

"He was turned into a spirit," Aster corrected. "Heard of Jack Frost?"

"Oh, that's you." Hoata smiled at Jack, who - poor, young fool that he was - beamed up at her, eyes squinting closed and ears falling back.

Then she struck.

Jack squealed, staff dropping to the ground as he flailed wildly. Aster took a prudent step back, and looked skyward while Hoata snarled and snapped in a mixture of English and Pookan, the very embodiment of motherly wrath. He did his best not to hear what she said, though the words "what were you thinking?" and "grounded for life!" did make it through his absentminded debate on the exact shade of blue the sky currently was.

"But mom!" Jack wailed, when Hoata paused for a breath. "I didn't mean to forget! I just did! I didn't remember anything until two years ago. And I didn't remember I was Pooka until I got hit by lightn- _erk_!"

Aster looked down just long enough to verify Jack had stopped protesting because he was being clutched desperately to Hoata's chest, and not because she'd switched to strangling him, and then...

He didn't go back to looking up at the sky. Rather, a quiet scuffing sound drew his attention back to the house.

Hoata must've removed the shapeshift on Lilian when they'd got home. It wasn't good for the youngsters anyways, so...

"Hullo there," he breathed, and dropped to his knees. The sweet little miss ducked back a little, hiding most of her body behind the door frame. "Nah, nah, it's alright."

"Lilian," Hoata called. She tucked Jack under one arm like he was a football. "Come out, love. It's your Da and brother, that's all. She's shy," she told Aster. "And you and our spawn are the first Pooka she's seen, other than me and a mirror."

Aster nodded, and churred at the little darling. She crept out from behind the door jam, crouching down onto all fours. After a long moment, she eased forward, remaining doubled over, just in case she needed the speed. Clever little flower. Aster churred again, encouraging her forward, until she was just out of his reach.

She was smaller than Jack, though not by much. She'd been born just after they'd arrived on Earth, Jack had said... He glanced up at Hoata and smiled. "M' last shore leave?"

"The timing fits," she agreed, and smiled down at their daughter.

She looked like Aster, at least superficially. Sleek gray fur, with just a hint of green in the under-coat - had to be from his mum, she'd had that green undercoat, while he'd gotten his Da's blue - and brilliant green eyes. Her markings were a bit more jagged, like Hoata's, looking like lightning bolts to Jack's frost patterns and Aster's flowers. She couldn't have been more than six or so, using human ages, to Jack's eight... and she was such a darling little miss he felt his heart melt in his chest.

"Hullo," he said, and offered his hand. "My name's Aster, and I'm your Da."

She narrowed her eyes. "Mom says Da's dead. You're lying."

Jack squirmed free of Hoata's grip, and shook himself off. "I'm dead too," he pointed out. "Does this me-ack!"

Lilian rocketed into Jack, wrapping her arms around him and bearing him to the ground. Poor brat; he'd either been born to be a shrimp, or his three centuries spent shapeshifted had stunted his growth. Lilian was almost as big as he was.

"Here now, he still needs to breathe." Aster dodged the quick snap of teeth, and tapped his little miss on the nose. "None of that. Hoata thought I was dead...?"

Hoata nodded, and scruffed their brats. She pulled them apart, but let them go almost immediately. "I did. Couldn't find you."

Aster raised both hands in submission. "Well, I thought you all were dead. And every - every source I could go to said the same. I've been on this planet since before there were continents."

He ignored Lilian when she turned to Jack and whispered, loud enough for _North_ to hear, " _is he talking about letters?_ "

"He's talking about cavemen," Jack replied, not bothering to keep his voice down. "He's been here since before they moved into caves and started talking."

Hoata's eyes widened. "You're how old? Never mind - has it affected your fertility?"

... Of course that was her first concern.

"Shouldn't have. I'm the Guardian of Hope, Spring, and New Life, after all."

Aster tilted an ear back, and then checked on his friends. Tooth had clamped her hands over her mouth, fingers digging into her cheeks and eyes bulging as she fought - and, so far, won - against hysterical laughter. Sandy wasn't bothering, but then, the loudest sounds he could make were a faint whisper to even Pookan hearing.

North was just making choked sounds, gesturing feebly.

"Problem?" he chirped, feeling suddenly... mischievous. Tooth, still in her fit of humour, nevertheless glanced warily at him. Last time he'd felt like this, humans had invented St. Patrick's Day. And the time before that... well, less said about half the world's fertility rituals, the better.

Or beer. He... really regretted that one, now.

North sucked in a loud breath, and pointed at Hoata, then Aster, then at Hoata again. "That one was _man_ ," he spluttered, his accent thicker and... not exactly Russian. 1800's Cossack, to be exact. "Now is, what? And Bunny - Bunny is svelt! Is - is - is Bunny being wrong pronouns all this time?"

Aster blinked, translating that from North to Normal People, and sighed. "No, no, you're not calling me the wrong thing," he assured North.

And then Hoata strode forward, snarling like an enraged lioness. Beautiful. "Who're you to call my mate a doe? He's got a lovely cock! He's going to have to use it quite a bit, and _skilfully_ , if he's going to sleep in a bed anytime this century..." She smirked at Aster, and then glared at North, who was spluttering again.

Jack glanced at Lilian, then Aster, and finally shrugged.

Aster sighed, and moved between Hoata and North. "He didn't mean it like that, love. North, shapeshifter. Hoata, North..." He sighed. "We're aliens and we're better at using English when... shocked, or what have you."

Hoata stopped looming quite so much, and snorted. "Fine."

Aster hummed, and nuzzled her throat. "As for my cock... any time you want it, doe."

"We'd starve." Blunt teeth closed on his ear, and nibbled. Only a quick grab at Hoata's hips kept him upright. Then she let go of his ear and stepped back.

North coughed, and thumped one hand against his chest. "Is this proper talk in front of children?" he demanded.

"Pooka," Aster and Hoata said, just as Tooth pointed at them and said, "Aliens."

"You know," Jack piped up, sounding thoughtful. "When I was... huh. When I had brown hair..." He scowled, and shook his head. "That sounds weird. Anyways, humans didn't go for privacy when having sex. It was down trousers and up skirts and if you were in a ditch beside a busy road, who cared?"

Tooth ended up having to smack North on the back to get him breathing again. Sandy was laughing too hard to help.

"Never mind." Aster shook his head. "As for the size thing, I'm tiny. And Hoata's warrior-clan. They're born and bred to be a bit bigger than average."

"And you're a bit shorter than," Hoata agreed. "Though lately that might not be true. Underhill's thing for 'little people' seems to be affecting the survivors as well."

Aster nodded, and then choked just like North had done. "Survivors - other Pooka? Underhill? Really?"

Hoata sighed, and nuzzled his cheek. "You really didn't know, did you?" She looked over his head at Tooth. "Men. Very well, oh mate of mine. Get me knocked up quickly, and you'll be forgiven for not noticing us."

Aster nodded, and leaned against Hoata's chest. Right. Other Pooka. That was good. Jack and Lilian would need options for dating, in a few centuries.

... How quickly could he get his kit-mad doe knocked up, anyways?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, it's done! Before anyone gets sad... well, it wasn't supposed to be more than four chapters or so anyways, so you got three extra ones. And I need to now move to working on other fanfic... and that original novel I'd really like to get published sometime this century. Preferably sometime this decade. So yes, moving on... working on Wolfy, Assassins (no, I haven't forgotten, but I need a plot!) and a few other fun ideas. -grin-


End file.
